Masquerade
by Fogs of Gray
Summary: She's played this dance before, mastered every twist that could befall her. Of all people to figure her out, it's him.


A fic involving a woman who one day will have a daughter, and our favorite uncle. Most likely never would have happened, but in my head, it did. :)

Spoilers: none

Disclaimers: Not mine!

* * *

She hated this. She reasoned with herself briefly. She was smarter than this. She shouldn't resort to this, of all things. A huff disrupted the still air. She didn't know where she was, but she'd heard enough.

If she could take one thing from this office, she would be well off for more than a month. With a settling breath, she slid from her place against the shadows. Quiet footfalls thudded against the floors, soft as rain. The place was beautiful, a haven she would dream of, if she could forget the claustrophobic tendency the room invoked. This was the home of a well traveled person, one versed in the rules of this world. She allowed her fingers to trail a centimeter above the desk. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. Tobacco, scotch, blood oranges, jasmine and old books. A man, then. Someone she would love to meet someday. A slow exhale later, she divested the first thing in sight. It was sliding into her pocket when she heard the lock turn.

Her stomach dropped. After all these times, she was finally caught. She cursed under her breath, turning to dart back to the shadows. The door opened quickly and shut just as fast. The candles died out in the sudden movement. Someone sighed softly before moving again. A pale, flickering light enveloped the room, chasing shadows past her. She held her breath. He was handsome, the stranger. His hair was as dark as his irises, and his skin pale. He was well dressed, although his lips were pulled into a drawn set, marring his appearance. He was tall, taller than she was, and she assumed he was the one who frequented the place. The man leaned against the wall opposite of her and closed his eyes.

Her foot was about to slide forward. "Who are you?"

She attempted to speak, but choked on the words. "Liv." It was the name she wanted her daughter to have, eventually. _Olivia_. Her confidence rose slightly. "And you?"

"Melchizedek." His tone carried a softness. His eyes found hers and then darted down her body. She tensed. It was entirely possible for him to... Melchizedek snapped his fingers once. She flinched. Something flashed in his eyes, desperate and maddening. A platter appeared on the desk in between them. One of his eyebrows arched. A challenge.

"I'm fine."

"Don't be absurd. You haven't eaten in days. Your hands are trembling." He dismissed her next attempt with a shake of his head. "Eat. I know the man who stays here personally." Ravenwood. He hated visitors and adored his privacy. If word were to get to him, and make its way to others, the sentence could be horrible.

She sat quietly on the seat, picking up a spoonful of what looked like soup. Hesitating, she looked at him again. "Sir, forgive me for asking, but you don't know me?" He shook his head. Her hand could stay the spoon no longer. The bowl was empty seconds too soon, but the warmth spreading through her was cozy. She noticed then that he had disappeared. Panic lanced up her, dogged by reprimand. She hadn't lost her nerve before. It terrified her. Scenarios were beginning to flame when he returned, a purpose in his step.

He had the gait of a man who never forgot what he was doing. Alternatively, he had changed something in his absence. His shoulders were more tense. In the different lighting, she noticed a faint scar at the back of his neck.

"There's been an accident." She didn't comprehend for a moment. It clicked together then. An accident. The door would be locked. She couldn't escape. Without thinking, she dashed to the almost hidden door, jarring the doorknob. A hand settled on her shoulder, firm and yielding. "It's late." She shook her head, shaking the knob again. The man breathed a sigh. "Believe me, Liv, I don't want to be here either. If there was a way around this, I would have pursued it the moment I found you." He paused, his voice softer. "Now, I doubt that you've slept healthily for some time. There's a bed in the corner behind you. It's your choice." She could feel her frame trembling. He departed again, his footfalls steady. She turned slowly.

She walked with her head somewhere else. Her knees hit the mattress and her thoughts cut off. She looked around again, seeing 'Melchizedek' across the room, sliding to the floor. With a deep breath, she slid under the sheets and closed her eyes, promising not to fall asleep. Eventually, quicker than she expected, the promise broke, and she fell to slumber.

* * *

She was woken by a weight atop her. She panicked again, struggling, only to find her wrists held above her. Her breaths came as cries. The weight didn't shift. She opened her eyes to meet the figure's. Black as coal, but lacking any passion. When he spoke, it was controlled. "You were harming yourself." Her mouth opened to make a retort when she felt it. Her arms were burning. She had scraped them raw in her nightmare. She nodded once. He kept eye contact with her before disappearing off the bed. She fell asleep soon after.

She awoke carefully to the sound of voices. "We caught a positive here. Are you housing her?"

"If you forgot, dear Caster, as I was sentenced yesterday I would still set that alarm off, wouldn't I?" His tone was genial, carrying a biting undertone.

"Make sure it doesn't happen again, Mister Ravenwood." Terror seized inside her. Melchizedek had broken his promise after all. Fury began to lap at her sense of mind.

"Gladly." The door clicked shut. She feigned waking to watch him move, the light playing on him. He wasn't as terrible as everyone thought he was. In him, she could see a man growing weary of the world he fought for. A man bound by duty and honor. A man who was worn thin already, even in his young age. He rightened his suit and glanced over at her, catching her stare.

"Why?" Her voice was clear.

"I am not fond of suffering, even from those who trespass." His was softer, and reminded her of a father. She wished they were back into pretending, with both of their masks firmly in place. She hoped he would use the harsh voice he had in the beginning. It would make it all so easier if he were brutal.

"Sir-" He tilted his head back a bit. "You don't look well, either." A chuckle filled the room.

"I know what's best for me, Liv."

"As do I."

The corner of his lips pulled up. "I haven't managed to injure myself yet." They stared at each other for a long second, both realizing the blatant lie in the statement. He cleared his throat. "The Tunnels are open. I advise you to leave as soon as able. I have...business that demands my attention. I trust you can find your way?" She nodded once. He mimicked the movement.

As he turned to leave, her body betrayed her. "Wait. I...I have something of yours." She couldn't see his face, but she imagined the brief confusion over his features. She leafed through her pocket, grasping the watch.

"I know you do. A pocket watch, if I remember correctly. If you need anything more, leave a note under the door. There are Casters who would murder you for entering their homes. It would be...unfortunate, to have you fall to that brutality."

Startled, she waited until he moved to close the door before whispering. "Adieu, Mister Ravenwood."

She didn't hear the small grin in his voice. "Adieu, Elizabeth."


End file.
